


In Between

by carpevinum



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpevinum/pseuds/carpevinum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian Kinney is not a man of faith. He refuses to believe in bullshit social constructs. Love, marriage, life after death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Between

Brian Kinney is not a man of faith.

He refuses to believe in bullshit social constructs.

Love, marriage, life after death.

These were nothing but lies, empty promises people told themselves in hope of making their pathetic lives seem less miserable.

At first it seems like Brian will actually live out his days like this.

No excuses. No apologies. No regrets.

Why love when you can fuck?

_And yet, he still finds himself rushing back to Babylon to find Justin. To hug him tightly and whisper those three little worlds he swore he would never utter._

Why marry when you can come and go as you please?

_And yet, he still finds himself choosing wedding rings for him and Justin. To propose to him and ask that he love him forever, unconditionally._

Why wait for eternal life when you can live now?

* * *

 When Brian’s eyes open, they are immediately greeted by a flood of bright light.

He is lying on the ground, which is hard and hurts his back. After wiggling his fingers and toes a few times to check that he can still move, he pokes his head up. All around him, he sees whiteness. He forces his body to stand up and finds himself unharmed but wearing tattered, blood splattered clothing. He starts to ask himself what happened when a rush of memories fills his mind.

_It had been a fun experiment: Justin in New York, him in Pittsburgh. At first, they keep in contact with each other constantly through phone calls and letters. Then it tapers off as Justin tries to focus on his art and Brian becomes increasingly occupied with Kinnetik. Even though they stop talking, they hear about each other from the rest of the gang. It is impossible to hide that the fact that neither is happy._

Brian doesn’t quite know how he knows, but he knows where he has to go. He heads off, walking at first then jogging. By the time he gets there, he’s sprinting.

_So Justin comes home. It’s just a visit, Justin reassures him when they talk for the first time on the phone in weeks. He still believes, despite his own misery, that Justin is better off in New York. Brian doesn’t go to the airport to pick him up. Or to Debbie’s where everyone has gathered for a mini welcome home party. He hides in the office and decides that at three in the morning, it is safe to return to the loft. He doesn’t know whether to be surprised or not when he finds Justin there, waiting for him. Brian expects a verbal tirade, but there is none. “I’m not leaving,” is all Justin says. He speaks firmly, and Brian knows that he has returned to Pittsburgh for good. Brian is annoyed and angry and tired, but he still finds himself replying, “Don’t. I want you to stay.”_

Brian stops running. The white ground stops and becomes clear. He peers down and sees a highway. There are two cars, one larger and one smaller. The front of the two cars have crashed into each other, creating a horrible mess of crumpled metal and broken glass. He recognizes the smaller car. It’s his.

_That’s all it takes. An exchange of eight words and they’re off. They don’t bother taking the elevator. Instead, they sprint down the stairs like a couple of lovesick teens. They reach Brian’s car, struggling to breathe through their laughter. Justin’s about to get into the car, when Brian grabs him and pulls him in for a kiss. Some things are better left unsaid, they both decide as they find themselves telling each other things that words alone could not express._

Brian recognizes his body next. Or what’s left of it. His body is still in the driver’s seat with his hands on the wheel. The fronts of both cars are smashed in from impact. His face is mangled from the shards of broken glass and his neck hangs limp at an unnatural angle. Holding a hand up to his face, Brian looks at his body and then at the one that remains in his Corvette. “So this is it then,” he silently asks himself. “This is death,” he says aloud blankly.

_They’re driving in silence. Justin doesn’t ask Brian where they’re going, but they both know. They’re headed home. To West Virginia. To their country manor. To Britin, as Justin had once jokingly named it. It’s dark outside, but snow has started to fall and stick to the ground. Brian turns to Justin who’s staring out the window. He takes his hand unexpectedly and laces their fingers together. Justin looks up, a shy smile on his face and they’re reminded both of a time when things weren’t so fucked up._

Brian steps back for a moment, examining his body again. Where was he? He barely made attention during sermons when his mother forced him to attend church, but he vaguely remembered discussions of the afterlife. His mother, upon discovering his homosexuality, promised that he would burn in Hell. Where was the eternal fire, Satan, all the other sinners who were meant to burn alongside him? Here, he was alone.

_Then, out of nowhere another car appears. It’s in the wrong lane and Brian tries to slam on the breaks but it’s too late. There’s the awful sound of metal being crushed and glass shattering. This time, the last thing he remembers hearing is Justin shouting his name, “Brian!”_

So this is what being dead felt like. Brian continues watching real life happen below him. His vantage point suggests he is above the ground. Perhaps he is in the clouds and this is Heaven. Brian snorts. After all those years of promiscuity and substance abuse, could he really be on his way to earn a pair of angel wings?

He hears sirens and sees firetrucks and ambulances rushing toward the scene. Brian wonders who called when he spots the driver from the other car. He’s walking around, looking dazed and panicked all at once. Something is wrong with this scene, Brian realizes. Very wrong. His own body remains in the car, yet Justin’s is not beside him. Shouldn’t Justin’s body be next to his, equally injured? If he wasn’t up here with him, did that mean he was still alive?

Brian’s eyes scan the scene when he spots Justin, his blonde hair illuminated by all the headlights. He’s on the ground, unconscious. His hair and face are streaked with blood and bits of broken glass. There’s a growing pool of blood beneath him, staining the snow covered concrete. Paramedics reach him and they’re lifting his body onto a stretcher and into an ambulance.

He sees his own body being removed from the car and also placed on a stretcher, but unlike Justin’s, it’s covered with a black sheet. It’s official then. Brian Kinney has been declared dead. Dead on arrival, the paramedics will later tell the others. The impact of the crash severed his C2 vertebrate, cutting off his airways. He died from asphyxia or spinal shock, they will reassure a stunned Michael and weeping Debbie. Either way, it was almost instantaneous and painless.

Justin, on the other hand, has suffered a much worse fate. Death would have been the more merciful. Meanwhile, the man who drove his car into theirs walked away without a scratch. Later he’ll hope that he’s a ghost so that he can haunt the motherfucker.

* * *

Brian’s eyes open again for a second time. The whiteness isn’t as jarring, but Brian still takes a moment to remember that he’s dead. He wonders how much time as passed and he finds his feet taking his body to a new spot. He sees everyone gathered in a waiting room. Ted, Emmett, Michael, Debbie, Jennifer. Even Lindsay is there, which means several hours have passed. He assumes Melanie is at home with the kids.

A doctor comes out and everyone jumps up at once. He asks for Jennifer, who tearfully tears herself away from Debbie and goes up to talk to the doctor. His voice is hushed, but Brian can hear everything perfectly.

“Your son,” he begins.

“Justin,” Jennifer cuts him off, her voice distant.

The doctor clears his throat. “Yes, Justin. He just came out of surgery. When he came in, he was in bad shape. We suspected internal bleeding. He suffered a ruptured spleen and several cracked ribs. The bleeding is under control, but he has suffered from a severe concussion and uh, possible spinal injury.” Jennifer keels over, reaching for the armrest of a waiting room chair. A nurse rushes to help her take a seat and the doctor sits down next to her.

“How?” she gasps. “Is he going to be alright?”

“His condition is critical, and these next few hours will be extremely important. Mrs. Taylor, please understand that your son has suffered a great deal of injuries. The paramedics tell me that during the crash, Justin wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. His body went right through the windshield. He is lucky to be alive, and we are doing everything in our power to make sure he stays that way.”

Stupid. Fucking. Twat.

Why the hell hadn’t Justin been wearing his seatbelt? How could Justin have been so idiotic to forget something so basic? And what had he done? Why hadn’t he reminded him to wear it?

“Can I see him?” Jennifer sobs. She doesn’t wait for a response. “Please doctor, you must let me see him.”

The doctor can’t refuse, but warns her that the sight won’t be pleasant. Brian follows Jennifer and the nurse. They’re not allowed to go inside his room, but there Justin is. He’s almost unrecognizable. He’s hooked up to a breathing machine, tubes coming out of his nose and mouth. His head is bandaged tightly. The sight is too much for Jennifer. He closes his eyes and there is darkness.

* * *

“This is all your fault.”

When Brian awakens for the third time, he finds himself Debbie talking to his corpse. “What in God’s good name were you doing driving that late? With a snow storm coming in, no less.” She blows her nose into a tissue.

Brian blinks, wishing he could yell down at her. Where was the other driver? The one who had driven his car into his? Why wasn't she taking her anger out at him?

“And now you’re gone, and Justin’s all alone. Gus is going to grow up without his father. And it’s all because you were out at four in the morning in fucking West Virginia.”

Brian decides he’s done hearing Debbie scold him, even post mortem. By now, he’s learned that he can escape all this and enter the darkness if he closes his eyes, so he does just that.

* * *

The darkness doesn’t last forever. Brian’s eyes are forced open and he’s staring down at Justin’s body. He’s fresh out of another surgery, he sees the doctor telling Jennifer. There’s been an infection of some sort, the concussion isn't improving, and he’s slipped into a coma.

For the second time ever, Brian find himself watching Justin teeter on the edge of life and death in a coma. Again, Brian finds himself useless. This place, whatever is, can’t get any worse than Hell.

* * *

Brian decides to skip his funeral. Every time he awakens, he closes his eyes again. He doesn’t want to see his friends crying or hear Jennifer blame him for Justin’s condition. He briefly wonders if his mother or sister showed up, but he doesn’t care. They probably rejoiced when they heard about his death. Good riddance. Good riddance indeed.

* * *

Brian begins to think a lot about his current state. Despite the pain that is watching Justin lay comatose, this is not Hell. It can’t be. There’s too much light and brightness. But this definitely isn’t Heaven either. Maybe this is Purgatory or Limbo. Brian doesn’t remember what either means, or how permanent the whole thing is. Will he be stuck here forever?

Sometimes he is saddened by the fact that he is dead. There are so many things he wishes he could have done. Other times, he is not. There was a secret part of him that always wished he could live fast, die young, like the greats. Now, he will never wither away to nothing, wrinkly and gray-haired.

The days pass by slowly. Justin’s condition does not worsen, but it does not improve either.

* * *

Brian loses track of time. All around him is just whiteness and he only has one channel of access to the real world. Most days it’s Justin’s bed, sometimes it’s his friends lives. They’re still mourning, and Brian wishes they would stop feeling sorry for themselves and resume living their own lives.

One morning, Justin’s bed is empty. A nurse is changing the sheets and readying it for a new patient. Brian hopes this means that Justin is better now. That he is leaving the hospital. But then he sees Jennifer, clawing at the door, screaming hysterically. She’s calling for her son. She’s calling for Justin.

* * *

Brian’s eyes open for the umpteenth time and he is ready to close them again. He figures that he’ll be able to see Justin’s funeral soon, but he doesn’t want to. He can’t bare to. He’s about to close them again when he sees a figure approach. Is this Judgement Day? Is it time to see God? Or maybe it’ll be Vic or someone else.

He blinks again and sees the figure come into focus. He’s rather short, with scruffy blonde hair and a boyish face.

“Hey,” the figure says. Brian doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t want to believe it.

“Hey,” he manages to sputter out. “But this means that…”

A lopsided smile spreads across Justin’s face. “Yeah.”

“And this isn’t some…”

“Hallucination? Dream?” Justin finishes his sentence for him, as if they’re a goddamned married couple. “Maybe you’re in a coma and you’re making all this up. Who knows?”

There is silence for a while.

Brian reaches out and touches Justin. He grips his shoulder, noting how real he feels. His knees are starting to wobble and he’s holding onto Justin so he doesn’t fall over. Justin steadies Brian, helping him stand up on his own.

“So, where you headed?” Justin finally asks, a slight smile on his face.

He’s been stuck in this fucking Twilight Zone for weeks now. He figured that this was the end of the road. “No place special,” Brian replies casually.

Justin’s smile widens. It’s one of those Sunshine moments that makes Brian pull Justin in for a kiss. Brian kisses Justin tenderly, afraid that he might evaporate.

Taking Brian’s hand in his, Justin whispers, “I can change that.”

* * *

_"Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect.”_  
― [J.K. Rowling](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1077326.J_K_Rowling)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my first ever QaF fic. I haven't written in ages, so apologies if I'm a bit rusty. Sorry if the whole thing was a bit morbid. There's a part of me that can't imagine Brian and Justin growing old together. Nothing says forever quite like death. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
